District 11- Tyrone's Story
by HitThePost
Summary: This is a story of a young man forced into the Hunger Games where he battles Careers, tributes and his own exhaustion. Will he survive?


The Forty Fifth Hunger Games

Tyrone stepped onto his plate and the sliding glass door slid shut. He was slowly lifted upwards. Suddenly, the sunlight that lit the arena blinded him for a few moments. When his vision returned, he heard an explosion. Someone must have tripped over their feet and met an unfortunate death before the Games had even started. It had happened on the other side of the Cornucopia, so he couldn't see what actually happened. He took in his surroundings: He saw a river encircling the middle of the arena, although he wasn't sure whether or not it was drinkable. He also noticed a very large, very dark jungle to his left, and a barren wasteland to his right, dotted with house-sized boulders. In front of him was, of course, the Cornucopia and behind him was an urban area. _Very diverse_, he thought.

He was just thinking about his tactics when the siren caught him off guard. He wasted a few seconds coming to his senses, before sprinting towards the Cornucopia. His mentor, the famous Johnny Hiddlesbatch(victor of the first Hunger Games), had taught him what to do in the bloodbath and to go for the weapon suited to his forte, which was close-combat melee. He reached the cornucopia and picked up the nearest weapon he could find; a small hunting knife. A tribute approached him, wielding a large spear. Without hesitation, Tyrone threw his knife at the tribute. It hit its target and the tribute fell to his knees. Tyrone ran up to him and picked up his knife, the fallen tributes' spear and a backpack that was lying close by.

He sensed a presence behind him, and turned around to see a large, muscled tribute running towards him. He ducked instantly and felt the sharp edge of a sword narrowly miss the top of his head. "What?!" Tyrone yelled. "I didn't do jack shit to you!".

"Give me your backpack" growled the tribute.

"Pull the other one,"smirked Tyrone, before sprinting off in the direction of the urban section of the Arena.

Tyrone ran until he felt like he was going to cough up his lungs; he had a hunch that tribute he had encountered was a 'Career', and it was most likely that he, and possibly his 'friends' were hunting him. He had gone a fair few miles, and rested in a dilapidated church. He went to the balcony, where he had an overlook of the urban area. He saw no tributes near, but he still kept alert as he opened his backpack. He was astonished to see he had hit the jackpot: a full set of Kevlar body armour, a sharpened sword, a medical kit and at least a week's worth of food for one. He hurriedly put his armour on and laid his spear against a wall. It was getting dark; and he had seen enough Games to know that not only Careers, but other tributes like to hunt under the cover of darkness. He packed his bag and prepared to go to sleep when he heard the first cannon shot. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. _Only nine tributes dead,_ thought Tyrone. He almost wished that more had been killed. He looked to the sky and saw the dead. First of all, he saw the face of the boy he had killed, from District 1. _A career_, thought Tyrone. Then the girl from 3, the boy from 4, both from 5, the boy from 7, Both from 9, The girl from 10 and the boy from 12. An equal spread of tributes by Hunger Games standard.

After a quick prayer(Tyrone was very religious), he settled down in a makeshift bed of cushions purloined from the pews downstairs.

Tyrone slept peacefully for the first night in a week.

He woke the next morning at which he guessed was around 10 on the morning, judging by the position of the sun. He stood up instantly and checked his surroundings. There didn't seem to be anyone in the church, nor did it seem anyone had intruded during the night. He went over to the balcony and noticed a lone tribute wandering along the street, not twenty metres away from the church. He looked tired and hungry, and Tyrone noticed he had a significant wound on his cheek, probably caused by a knife or a sword. He reckoned he could take him, and he noticed he was wearing a backpack which could contain anything.

Silently, Tyrone crept out of the church and snuck up to the tribute. He unsheathed his sword, and the tribute turned around in a look of surprise. Tyrone slashed downwards with his sword, and the tribute instantly fell down, his head split into two. A cannon boomed, and the face of the District 10 boy appeared briefly on the arena borders. Tyrone legged it, his footsteps echoing along the street.

That was his fatal mistake.

He ran, further and further into the city. It seemed to get darker, as if the streets were overshadowed by the buildings on either side(they were almost all the same size, save for the few tall buildings such as the church). He grew fearful; the sun's shadows weren't making any difference and Tyrone couldn't comprehend why the shadows were so long.

He rested in a small house, which was empty of anything useful. The lights weren't working, nor was any electricity in any of the houses Tyrone tried. He had a hunch that tonight wasn't going to be peaceful. If his calculations were right, he was in for a wild night.

And he was right.

Two hours into his slumber, Tyrone was awoken by a tinkling of glass. He stood up in the semi-darkness and hid around a corner, clutching his sword. He heard multiple voices, one of which he guessed to be the Career he had run away from. He knew the capabilities of these Careers; he had seen countless videos of Careers mercilessly murdering and maiming tributes in past Hunger Games. He peeked out from his 'hiding place' to see two figures standing in the hallway, looking around.

"Where is he?I saw him get in here." said one

"I don't know. I'll check in the kitchen, you go upstairs."

Tyrone held his breath as the Career strode into the kitchen. He was lucky it was dark; if there had been even a glint of moonlight off his sword, the Career would have most likely killed him. But in this instance, Tyrone was camouflaged against the shadows in the kitchen, and the Career looked directly at him. The seconds the stare-off occured in seemes like a lifetime to Tyrone, as he was in fear for his life. The Career moved on, and Tyrone mustered the courage to sneak up behind him. Unfortunately, he put pressure on a floorboard which gave a loud creak. The Career turned around and, before Tyrone could react, punched Tyrone hard in the face. Tyrone fell and th Career shouted: "I got him!", before crouching over Tyrone and holding him in a position from which Tyrone could not escape. He heard the other Career running down the carpeted stairs, before groaning in pain and falling down. "Jorge!" whispered the Career holding Tyrone. "What happened?". Before 'Jorge' could answer, someone jumped through the already broken window and silenced Jorge. A cannon sounded and the Career on top of Tyrone stood up. Tyrone immediately reached for his weapon, but the Career stood on his hand. He heard the bones in his fingers break and he screamed in pain. His screams were answered by an even louder, more agonising scream from the Career tribute. Tyrone got to his feet, pain flashing through his arm.

Another cannon shot. Silence.

Tyrone was stumbling along the hallway when he was grabbed and thrown against a wall. His head struck a piece of wood, which was sticking out in a dangerous position(no doubt an obstacle set by the gamemakers), and Tyrone groaned in pain. "Shut up!" hissed his assailant. "There are more of them."

"Who...who are you?"Tyrone whispered.

"I'm your District partner...its Sharkeisha,"replied the now ,obviously female, silhouette. Without any sound, Sharkeisha dragged Tyrone upstairs and hid him inside a cupboard, just as another tribute crashed through the front door, shouting and swearing. He or she must have noticed the two dead bodies on the floor, and the tribute screamed in anger. _It must be the other Career,_ thought Tyrone.

The tribute, who Tyrone now figured to be female, evolved into a series of sobs, screams and the occasional "Jorge!", who must have been her district partner. Tyrone and Sharkeisha listened to this in a stunned silence, until Sharkeisha had the sense to draw her weapon of choice, a rather long, rather sharp katana. She held it in both hands and crept down the stairs.

But she too made the fatal mistake of putting pressure on a creaky floorboard. The creak echoed through the house, and the Career turned and leaped at Sharkeisha. Sharkeisha held up her katana, but the Career was too strong for her. Tyrone heard Sharkeisha squeal, before a thump. "BITCH!" screamed the Career. "You killed them, didn't you?!"

"Go and.."gurgled Sharkeisha.

"Go on..."purred the Career, certain of a vengeful kill.

"Go fuck yourself, bitch," snarled Sharkeisha, before yelling Tyrone's name. Tyrone jumped out of the cupboard and flew down the stairs. The Career wasn't quick enough this time, Tyrone's sword slashed through the air, severing her arm. The Career let out an ear-piercing screech as she fell backwards into a coat rack. Tyrone pulled Sharkeisha to her feet. "Returning the favour," panted Tyrone.

"Thanks," said Sharkeisha, gasping for air.

"We need to get out of here," replied Tyrone, pulling Sharkeisha out of the door.

And so they ran. They ran closer to the Cornucopia, as Tyone suspected he was getting close to the edge of the Arena. The first rays of sun were appearing over the tops of the houses, giving them the advantage of light.

It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that a cannon sounded, which, Tyrone guessed, was for the Career tribute he had injured. They stopped by the church to catch their breath, and Sharkeisha put some bandages on Tyrone, and they ate from Tyrone's food stash. They only stopped for a few minutes, as they needed to get back to the Cornucopia. Tyrone had no water, and Sharkeisha's water skins were almost empty. Tyrone had asked what she had got from the bloodbath, and she had replied with:"Just a bag and this katana. You?" Tyrone showed her his pickings, and she was astounded. "Lucky bag,"he chuckled. She joined him in the laughter, but it was short-lived. They took off again when they thought they heard another tribute coming towards them.

They reached the Cornucopia just as it was beginning to get dark. They peered inside to see that it was almost completely empty. Tyrone kicked himself for being so stupid. In every Hunger Games he had seen, the Cornucopia was completely emptied by the Careers and other tributes. Tyrone picked his way through the crates that remained, only to find some apples, two silver arrows, (which were usless to them as they had no bow) a pair of old shoes and a thermal vest. They took the apples, but left the vest as it was absolutely boiling in the Arena. They refilled Sharkeisha's water skins at the river, and drank thirstily. The heat had rapidly deployed their water stores, and they were very dehydrated.

Four Days Later

Tyrone crawled through the undergrowth, keeping his sword close to him. In the course of the Games, two more tributes had been killed, although not by Tyrone nor Sharkeisha. They were the boy from District 8 and the girl from District 3 respectively. Sharkeisha was off hunting; he was off hunting tributes. He had come across an encampment the day before, and had noticed a very scrawny-looking boy, armed only with a harpoon. Tyrone guessed, from his jacket, that he was from District 3. He quickly stood up from the undergrowth, and the tribute turned around in surprise. Tyrone smiled and said: "Don't make a sound, I'll make it quick".

"Fuck you," snarled the tribute, before throwing his harpoon. It was a decent throw, and Tyrone only just got out of the way before it struck a tree behind where his head was. He got up immediately and was confronted by a saw-toothed blade. "Don't make a sound, I'll make it quick," hissed the tribute. Tyrone sighed. The tribute was treating this like a movie, with his puns and Hollywood comebacks. The tribute pushed the knife deeper into Tyrone's throat, and the first beads fo blood trickled down his neck. Tyrone groaned and savagely kicked the tribute in the balls. It was the tribute's turn to groan as Tyrone picked up his sword and mercilessly slashed the tribute. A cannon instantly sounded, and the tribute's name and picture appeared on the arena walls.

Tyrone calmly turned around and walked away, as if nothing had happened.

Suddenly, he heard a yell, followed by screamd and shouts. He took cover behind a tree, and saw two tributes running full speed towards his tree, pursued by three more, armed with swords, axes and spears. The two tributes were beaten and bloodied, and the three others weren't much better off. Tyrone was almost tempted to attack them, but he knew if all five of them turned on him, he wouldn't stand a chance. Silently, he pressed himself as hard as he could against the tree.

The five tributes were soon out of sight, but Tyrone heard two of them screaming, and the other three laughing. Soon after, two cannons simultaneously went off, and the faces of the District 11 pair were displayed on the Arena.

Tyrone snuck away from the three tributes, who were now walking his way. He took a left turn and made his way back to his camp.

When he returned, he heard another cannon shot. To his horror, Sharkeisha's display picture appeared on the Arena. He stood there for a few seconds in disbelief. Sharkeisha was armed and a decent fighter; Tyrone could only imagine how she was killed. Perhaps it was the three tributes he had seen, perhaps it was a muttation; perhaps she had somehow accidentally killed herself. He couldn't fathom how she could have been overpowered by a single tribute; she had, after all, taken down two Career tributes.

Tyrone was pondering this when someone grabbed him from behind and put a knife to his throat. "Found you, you little shit. You killed my friend. Now you're going to pay." growled his assailant. He looked left and right and saw the two other tributes he had seen earlier. "We killed your girlfriend as well; what was her name? Sharkeisha? Oh yes, she begged us to make it quick. What a squirmy bitch she was. I let Timmy take her. After all, she did put up quite a fight. Anyway, Bree, would you like to do the honours? I think he killed Jorge".

"I'd be delighted,"grinned Bree. Tyrone was desperate. In a last attempt to survive, he flicked his head backwards, splintering the nose of his captor. In these few precious seconds he had while the others reacted. He unsheathed his sword and slashed his assailant. Another cannon. The others were advancing on him, and Bree narrowly missed him with her axe. Tyrone turned and ran, almost tripping over the vines wrapped along the floor. The other tributes were considerably faster than him, and caught up with him in no time at all. Bree took Tyrone down with a swift punch to the side of the head. Tyrone moaned and accepted defeat. He knew they would make his death as slow and as painful as possible, so there was no point in him begging. His armour had been ripped and battered by nature, and offered him no more protection. Bree knelt down below him and buried her axe between his shoulder blades. Tyrone only just managed to suppress a scream as the others pulled him to his feet and winded him. He went limp in their arms, on the verge of unconsciousness. "Stay with us, man," said Bree. "We wouldn't want you to miss your funeral". Tyrone smiled and said: "I'm not going to miss _yours_!" before wriggling out of his captors hands. He fell to the floor and got up, dazed. He was losing a lot of blood. The tributes laughed maliciously and Tyrone swiftly slashed sideways with his sword. One of the tributes howled as his insides became his outsides. Bree was furious; she thought she was going to enjoy this, but she couldn't risk her own life to take his. She quickly charged at Tyrone, holding her axe above her head. Tyrone only just managed to dive out of the way in time. It was his second escape of the day. It might be his last.

Exhausted, Tyrone slumped down on a log, completely oblivious to Bree advancing on him, tensed for any kind of funny business Tyrone may have up his sleeve.

Despite her readiness, she culdn't comprehend what Tyrone did next. Out of the blue, Tyrone fell backwards off the log, crouched down and lifted the log up. He was using all his strength, as well as a hefty load of adrenaline. He held it above his head, and brought the log down upon Bree. He heard her neck snap under the weight of the log, and a cannon sounded seconds later. _3 more tributes to go,_ thought Tyrone before he passed out.

Four Hours Later

Tyrone woke to the sound of a whirring turbine. It sounded like it was directly above his head. He looked up to see a hovercraft poised over him, the claw about to lift him up and take him away from the Arena. He allowed himself a smile as he was hoisted into the hovercraft. He had no idea how he had won, or how the remaining tributes had died. He expected it would all be revealed to him during his tour of the Capitol.

For the first time in two weeks, Tyrone was happy. Tyrone was safe.


End file.
